


Feeling (Bucky x Reader)

by orphan_account



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, F/M, Marvel Comics - Freeform, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(James "Bucky" Barnes x Mutant!Reader) "By the time you swear your his, shivering and sighing, and he vows his passion is infinite, undying -- Lady, make note of this: one of you is lying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Therapy

   "It's okay, y'know, to not be okay."

 

   (Y/N) shifted in her seat, one leg moving to overlay the other as she carefully watched the man before her. "But I thought that's what I was supposed to be; okay," she interjected.

 

   "And why do you think that?" he inquired, and she knew it only came forth because that was his job; to ask questions and find the root of all her problems.

 

   "Because I see it in their eyes. I feel it in the arches of their back, or the tips of their fingers. Even when they stand a foot away from me, I can sense it." Her voice had all but lowered to a condescending growl. 

 

   "Who?" He asked, referring to the way she had used the pronoun, "them".

 

   "Everyone," she responded, tilting her chin upwards with an air of dominance.

 

   "You think everyone needs you to be okay?"

 

   "Precisely."

 

   "Do you know why?"

 

   "Yes."

 

   "Then why?"

 

   "Because. They need to be okay," she snarled, wondering how he had not put two and two together already. Perhaps he did not have much experience in this job of his.

 

   "Excuse you?" He managed to force down the offended tone, she could tell.

 

   "They need me to be okay so I can make them okay," she explained, waving one hand in the air as if to dismiss the importance of the fact, sighing deeply.

 

   "You need to comfort them?"

 

   "Yes," she replied simply, growing impatient. 

 

   "Do they ask you to comfort them?"

 

   "Yes."

 

   "When?"

 

   "When they come near me." Her eyes narrowed, knowing she would have to stretch the truth soon. He didn't need to know everything.

 

   "Do they verbally speak that they need your assistance?"

 

   "No," (Y/N) added hesitantly.

 

   "Then how do you know they need your help?"

 

   "I see, feel, and sense it."

 

   "How?"

 

   Her eyes flickered to the ground before she made up an obvious lie. "I'm not sure."

 

   "Do you have any ideas?"

 

   Her confidence faltered. She needed to distract him somehow. "... No."

 

   "Do you usually help.. everyone?"

 

   "When the time is right, yes." Internally, her muscles relaxed at the change of subject.

 

   "And what do you mean by that?"

 

   "I help them when they need to be helped."

 

   "How do you know when they need to be helped?"

 

   "I've answered that question before." She was growing subtle, introverted again, for her safety.

 

   "You see, feel, and sense it?"

 

   "Yes."

 

   "And you have no idea how you see, feel, and sense it?"

 

   "No." She began to wonder why she even decided to get help. Now was the time to distract him. "But I can tell you need help."

 

   "Excuse you?" (Y/N) was used to hearing him say that by now.

 

   "Your eyes scream the words your mouth is forced to silence." Her abnormally old age was shining through her language, deeming it useless now to use the "mainstream" slang. "You sit straight and formally in your chair but your shoulders slump with the weight of your problems." She leaned forward, resting her elbows in the desk, staring deeply into his auburn eyes. "Your fingers tap your clipboard in anxiety, begging to ask the question, 'Will I be able to help this one?'"

 

   "I must dis--"

 

   She pulled back, leaning against the cushion of her chair again. "To hold your title? You disagree with complete honesty to make sure you're still superior?"

 

   "I..."

 

   "Isn't it time you stopped asking the questions, Therapist?" Her fingers intertwined, hands folding in her lap politely.

 

   "I-I..." He wiped at his forehead with a large hand as his eyes flickered to the clock on his left. "Yes, it seems our time is up. I was glad to speak with you today. I do wish to see you again."

 

   "Liar," she said abruptly, a smirk forming on her lips.

 

   "Beg your pardon?"

 

   "You hold the pen in your right but you looked to the left as you spoke with me." Waving a hand over her mouth, (Y/N) decided to over-dramatize her boredom. "You lied," she snarled suddenly, "you don't want me to come back."

 

   "That's preposterous." His eyes were widening in some sort of disbelief, pulling his clipboard of notes closer to his chest as if it would shield him from her words.

 

   "But true, again," she preached, a triumphant grin gracing her usually darkened face. "I came here to be helped but instead find another person to gather the shards for. What else do you want me to do? Put in the rest of the missing pieces of your puzzle?"

 

   "Our time is up, miss. I have another appointment soon." The therapist ushered, setting his clipboard off to the side while he pretended to sort some papers on his desk.

 

   "With another therapist?" she teased, although her voice sounded completely stoic.

 

   "I... What?" It caught him off guard and she stood swiftly, pinning down his busied hands with one of her own.

 

   A small shock ran through her veins, gut tightening and stomach twisting as her forehead grew hot. Grinning kindly while heat crawled uncomfortably up her neck, (Y/N)'s head cocked to the side, now understanding just what exactly her helper was feeling. "Do you have a scheduled appointment yourself?" she inquired with an almost bittersweet tone. "I am only assuming because behind the film of your eyes, and flesh of your body.." she paused briefly, gaze wandering his expression while it contorted to match the horror he felt. ".. you are troubled."

 

   "N-No, I do not." He ripped away from her grip, moving so abruptly into a stand that his chair banged against the back wall. "Time to go," he added hurriedly, yet not making any attempt to get her out.

 

   A flicker of sorrow flashed in her eyes. "You have to be okay for everyone, too, don't you?"

 

   "No..."

 

   "You hesitate because you know I'm right. You understand me."

 

   "No, I --"

 

   "You help others feel okay, so that you can feel okay."

 

   "Miss, I really --"

 

   "Need me to go." She lifted her jacket into her arms, catching a glimpse of the male's now relaxed features. She felt his relief settle in the air around her. "Right."

 

   "Thank you for the chat," he muttered too quickly to be meaningful.

 

   "Have a nice day," she chipped, the grin coming back to her face while she turned on her heel and strutted back to the front door.

 

   "You.. too."

 

   And then she was gone.


	2. Bar

   The night was young, stars twinkling as the moon lit the path towards a certain, lively nightclub. Inside rested the earlier-mentioned (Y/N), slouched in a plush, leather chair while her fingers twitched in annoyance, browline set low. It was a struggle to focus on the flickering lights and dancing people, everything becoming just a blur of colors as her insides tumbled and turned with the lot of emotions every single one of them set off -- from anxiety to lust. 

 

   She could barely comprehend when one of the hosts stuffed a silver platter in her face, asking if she'd like a drink, as it was ordered for her by one of the men at the bar. She denied instantly without asking what it was, already knowing the ropes of what each and every man in the proximity wanted. They wanted her. For not only themselves, but for a good time too. For her shining (h/c) tresses, beautifully (e/c) jewles for eyes, silky smooth (s/c) skin, and perfectly sculpted (petite/curvy) body.

 

   All of them, except one.

 

   She could sense him in the crowd, although unable to fully recognize his emotions like the rest. He was a blank slate; a boring white in all the flashing neon. She didn't know what he wanted, but guessed it was something along the lines of finding an exit.

 

   That was it. She could feel it now as the waiter walked away. The blank slate of a man dulled over with a misty haze, she felt her muscles grow tense while her fists clenched. He was nervous, uncomfortable. A tightening set in her chest, practically pulling her forward and off the seat, begging her to find this stoic male.

 

   But she held back, resisting against the bond. He could find his way out of this musty-smelling club and then the string between them would snap; she would no longer feel his presence running through her veins. 

 

   Minutes passed, he was still there in the back of her mind, stuck like a burr. Was he dancing or was he trapped in all the people? She hummed in wonder and amusement, sight unclouding as the people before her became detailed again. The invisible vices around her chest began tugging once more. This time, she decided to let them lead. 

 

   Gracefully sliding from her comfortable chair, her heels clicked faintly against the marble floor as she practically glided across it. Not once was she shoved or brushed against another, as they all made way for her, continuously keeping up their dance routines all the while. The back of her head began burning, forehead set ablaze while she roamed closer to the dull phantom. Her hands layered over with a film of sweat and she quickly wiped them against the tightly-fitted, black dress she wore, her fingers soon wandering up to its low-cut, scoop neckline to adjust the fabric nervously. She felt her knees wobble as the silk brushed across them, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of her face. She swiped it away quickly and soon found herself on the edge of circle of dancing women and men, looking in at a single, casually dressed male who's head swung side to side, seemingly trying to find a way out of the crowd.

 

   Smirking, she took another step forward as he turned his back to her, sliding her hands across his shoulders and pulling him gently back into her chest. She rested her cheek against his over-grown, nightly hair as her lips hovered just over his ear.

 

   "Stuck?" she inquired with a slightly teasing tone.

 

   Her own breathing began to grow ragged and quick to match his, heat crawling up her neck and licking at the lobes of her ears. His stringy locks whipped at her face lightly as he nodded and she grinned her pearly whites, stepping back only to slip her hand in his. Although, instead of leading him off to the nearest emergency exit, she spun on her heel and rested her free hand on his shoulder, the other forcefully intertwining their fingers together. Her hips swung lightly to the beat of what she remembered to be the ending of "Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites", eyes travelling his entirety before resting on his darkened face. She felt her own brows beginnning to furrow together in confusion, curiosity flowing from his fingertips to her nerves freely. 

 

   "Where are you headed?" She raised her voice in order for him to hear, although her tone still matched a suave falceto.

 

   Underneath his bangs, he surveyed her cautiously before answering, "The bar."

 

   She pretended she didn't hear him as an excuse to lean her face closer to his, feeling a predatorial growl rumbling in her throat. "What was that?"

 

   "The bar," he snarled lowly, causing her to reel back slowly, a smirk gracing her lips.

 

   She gestured her head to the side, removing her hand from his shoulder to direct him through all the people. On the way there, she felt the hinges of her jaw loosening, lips slightly agape as an uncomfortable warming sensation set in her stomach. He was shocked, probably because of the way people seemed to clear from her path without a second thought. Glancing over her shoulder she caught his gaze and smiled fondly, eyes twinkling with mischief at the knowledge that she could easily make him feel more emotions that just one. In the back of her head, he was no longer a white figure, but a dark, appealing crimson; almost like a dying rose.

 

Look at this, I'm a coward too..

 

   Within a minute, she had found herself at the high counter and bar stools, releasing her grip on the man and wiping her hand against her dress for the second time. He cleared his throat to gather her attention and her eyes instantly flickered up to him, clasping her palms together and flashing a crooked smile.

 

   "Thanks," he said gruffly, still hiding most of his eyes in the depths of his hair. She decided to change that.

 

You don't need to hide, my friend..

 

   Stepping forward, she brushed a few locks away from his cheek and placed a chaste kiss upon it. Her fingertips tingled with his apprehension as she pulled away grinning, a knowing look spreading across her features.

 

   "Hey, Buck! We were lookin' for yah!" The distant call reached her ears and she felt her stomach drop, dread drowning the unbeating heart in the midst of her chest just before she took back the hands she had placed on his face. Winking, she stepped backwards and grabbed the nearest male in the moving crowd, letting him drag her off to dance near the speakers, leaving behind the wilting rose for the plain of colorful daises and pansies.

 

For I am just like you..


End file.
